


if only you could see yourself as clearly as you did your target

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blindness, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Some Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Conditions, Medical Inaccuracies, Mild Dehumanization, Post-Order 66, Whump, crosshair has sickle cell anemia, he's not havin a good time, i guess ???, i think it's whump, is this whump, n a cataract, n now he also has glaucoma, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: Crosshair is going blind, and he doesn't take it well.
Relationships: Clone Force 99 | Bad Batch & CT-21-0408 | Echo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 120





	if only you could see yourself as clearly as you did your target

**Author's Note:**

> this is fr mckenna stabbingbeauty on twit who brought blind!crosshair to my attention uwu

Crosshair let the door to his cabin shut behind him. He leaned back against it, resting his head on the cool metal, as he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. They were his best feature. His _most useful_ feature. And now his hand was blurry as he pulled it away from his face.

He sighed. He’d always been careful when it came to his eyes; he didn’t smoke, he didn’t spend extended periods staring at datapads like Tech, he wore protective eyewear when the situation called for it — he’d even added extra-strength UV filters to the visor of his helmet. He had taken every precaution he could.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for a clone from such a bad batch.

He sat on the edge of his bed. He would have to tell his brothers. Hunter first, probably. He’d always led them through the hardest times. Next he would tell Echo, hoping for a bit of sympathy regarding feeling so useless. Then Tech, who no doubt would go as far as to smear bacta on his bare eyeballs in an attempt to remedy the situation. He chuckled to himself at that. Wrecker would be last, as he no doubt would feel like a complete asshole after his relentless teasing and would seek reassurance that Crosshair struggled with on a good day.

For now, though, he put his head in his hands. It felt as though it was about to split open from just behind his eyes. _Perhaps that would be kinder_ , he found himself thinking, but he shook away the thought. There was no use wallowing in self-destruction. He would face this. He _had_ to face this.

He didn’t want to face this.

* * *

Hunter kept a close eye on his brother once the news was out. He watched every rub of his eyes, every wince at too-bright lights. Every shot missed.

The five of them knew that they wouldn’t have access to the most advanced medical treatments. After leaving the GAR, Crosshair’s periodic blood transfusions had stopped, leaving behind a tired, pained grimace most days. He holed himself up in his cabin at times, only coming out to use the refresher, or to eat something small at his brothers’ insistence.

Crosshair swore under his breath as he missed a stormtrooper, then ducked down behind the wall of the speeder Echo had hotwired as they drove off. He removed his helmet as he shut his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. The butt of his rifle rested on the floor, and he leaned heavily against it.

Hunter put a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. “You alright, vod?”

“Do I look alright?” Crosshair snapped. He winced at the sound of his own voice. His breathing was shaky and shallow.

Hunter sighed. “We’ll be back at the ship soon,” he said. “Take it easy.”

“Kriff off.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hunter moved to sit beside Echo, stationed behind Tech and Wrecker in the front seat. “He’s got another flare-up,” he explained softly.

“That’s the third time this week,” Echo noted.

Hunter shrugged. “He’s under a lotta stress.” He pulled a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “ETA?”

“Ten minutes.” Tech glanced back at Crosshair, who was still leaning against his rifle on the ground. He kept his voice low. “Unless you wanna stop by that town. See if we can’t find some pain meds.”

“Too risky,” Echo protested.

Hunter nodded. “Imps are on the lookout for us. We’ve still got a decent supply back on the ship. No need to lay our lives on the line unnecessarily.”

“You’re the boss,” Tech said with a shrug.

Echo stood to sit beside Crosshair. “Open your eyes,” he said gently.

Crosshair grumbled. “Hurts.”

“I know. Let me see ‘em.”

Crosshair reluctantly complied. His light brown eyes were foggy, not quite focused on the man kneeling before him. “How bad is it?” He asked.

“You know it’s only gonna get worse,” Echo reminded him. “How much can you see?”

Crosshair gave Echo a light smack on the side of his head. It brought a soft chuckle from his throat, and Echo rolled his eyes.

“Enough to slap you.”

“Clearly.” Echo moved closer, inspecting Crosshair’s right eye more carefully. “Is that . . .?”

“What?” Crosshair’s small smile faded. “Come on, spit it out. Don’t coddle me.”

“I think you’ve got a cataract,” Echo murmured. “You sure hit the jackpot.”

Crosshair scowled at the floor. “Gonna take it that’s not good?”

“Well, seeing as how Wrecker can’t see out of his left eye because of his cataract, yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s not exactly ideal.” Echo sighed, leaning back on his heels. “It’s your aiming eye, too.”

Crosshair swore again. His jaw tensed. The muscles in his cheekbones and around the corners of his mouth twitched. He ran one hand down his face. “Don’t suppose you could use that socket to just scoop these useless things out, huh?” He laughed, high and strained and hurt. “Maybe I could get some replacements. They make those, right? They must. They have to. _Someone_ has to.”

“They take a lot of time to make,” Echo said slowly. “And they’re expensive.”

“Then we’ll steal some.”

“Cross, they have to be tailor-made for each individual. Not to mention the surgery needed to implant them — you’d be out of commission for months.”

“Well, that’s better than forever!” Crosshair’s voice broke on the last word. He glared intently at Echo. “I can’t- I can’t lose this. It’s all I’m good at. It’s what I was _made_ for.”

“I know,” Echo said with a sigh. “I know. I’ll see if I can find anything. Just don’t get your hopes up too high, yeah?”

Crosshair nodded slowly. “Fine.” He pulled a toothpick out from a compartment on his belt and stuck it between his teeth, then closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. Echo took that to mean that the conversation was over.

* * *

Crosshair stepped quietly from his room, one hand running along the wall. His head ached. He ran on autopilot to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Cross?”

Crosshair’s ears twitched. He turned reflexively, but even with the lights on, he had to rely on his memory and his imagination to see Wrecker sitting at the table a few paces away.

“Y’want help?”

Crosshair shook his head. He fumbled for a bit before finding a bottle, then bumped the door closed with his hip. He leaned against the wall as he drank. He’d hoped for water, but milk wasn’t a reason to complain. “What are you doing up?”

“Echo wanted me to keep an eye on things,” Wrecker said. “Just in case someone snuck up on us.”

“Mm. Nothing to do with your helpless blind brother, then?”

“You’re not helpless.”

“Certainly not _helpful_ , though.”

Wrecker didn’t have a response for that. He licked his lips. “Y’know, he said . . . He said his, uh one of his batchers. Fives. That he died trying to get us some little bit of freedom.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what he meant by that, exactly, but, uh. It was something about us being _people_. Having value other than being—“

“Stop talking.” Crosshair sat down across from his brother. “I’ve got a splitting headache. I can’t deal with all that right now.”

“Right.” Wrecker shifted awkwardly. “But, uh. He had a point. You’re more than our sniper; you’re our brother.” He chuckled. “Remember what you told 99?”

Crosshair smirked. “We were seven years old, Wreck. How do _you_ remember that?”

“‘Cause I had to remind myself of it when I got this.” He brought Crosshair’s cold hand to the scar on the side of his head. “We’re brothers. All of us. Getting hurt won’t change that.”

Crosshair sighed. He guzzled the last of his milk and stood, pulling his hand away to pat Wrecker’s broad shoulder. “I’m going back to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> [oops i referenced my own fic ahah a](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836943)


End file.
